


Losing You Part 1

by neki31415



Series: Losing You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Ben Braeden's Parent, F/M, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Underage Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neki31415/pseuds/neki31415
Summary: The United States is in the middle of World War 3. People are being enlisted every single day. In turn, people are dying in the war every single day. It's a blood bath, one that only the best of the best can avoid. Only those able to be doctors and those with political standing can get out of the battle.This part tells of the start of a relationship between two unlikely men. One is a short-tempered outcast and nerd while the other is the "bad boy on the block", guy who gets all the girls, ladies man. Though neither is exactly as they seem.





	1. Cas hates parties

Castiel’s POV

I hate parties. I hate social gatherings where more than ten people are crammed into a small area for hours. And I really hate parties when I have homework and studying to do.

It was a party filled with drugs and alcohol and awful sons of bitches who don’t know how to act around other people. I don’t drink, or do drugs, or anything at all. I tried once and threw up for days. And found out that I started removing my clothes on a table, so I’m not the smartest drunk ever. So this kind of party is even less my scene, since everyone’s either drunk/high off their ass, or trying to get others to get drunk/high off their ass.

Anna Milton forced me into going to this party. Anna’s my best friend. She used to get called the soulless devil because of her very vibrant red hair. But that never got her down, she found it amusing actually. And now, her close friends call her that, including myself. She’s actually the one who threw the party in the first place. She’s going into the army… at 17. Turns out we’ve already lost so many people to the war, that now they need inexperienced 17-year-olds.

I’m hoping to get a good education and get a job to help the war without being in it. I’m definitely not good in serious situations, I always freeze up or get sick. Once I got into a fight with a kid three years younger than me. I was 10. I froze mid punch, making myself look like a complete idiot and leaving me wide open to get punched and thrown on my ass. 

This party is meant to be somewhat of a farewell to her, as well as her twin brother, Bartholemew (or Bart as everyone calls him without his permission). Bart was always a really good guy and took care of Anna. Anytime we did something that was against their parents' rules, he always covered for us. He is what everybody calls the “perfect older brother”, even though he is Anna’s younger brother and not even related to me. I didn’t get any “perfect older brothers” but I’m not female so they don’t feel obliged to protect me. 

The party started at 9 pm and Anna told me I wasn’t allowed to leave until at least midnight. On a school night. It fills me with so much anxiety when I’m out of the house that late on a school night. I’ve got other things like studying to do.

On one side of the room, there were people making out and drinking and snorting God knows what. The other was playing weird party games like 7 minutes in Heaven and spin the bottle. Although, it seemed that they were conjoining the two. One person spun the bottle, landing on another person. They’d have to french kiss in front of everyone else. Then go into the closet for 7 minutes in Heaven where they either sat awkwardly, laughed about what happened, or actually started having sex (or just making out which doesn’t seem like the norm). Anna, of course, was the life of the whole thing. She started the game first, somehow landing on Bart. It was a disgusting 7 minutes where everyone was silently listening to them do their thing in the closet. They claimed that it was all for the game, and I choose to believe that. I don’t want to picture my best friend and the brother I never had being incestuous with each other because they want to.

It was a few hours, almost 11 o’clock when Anna finally tried to get me to join the game. All of the people in the circle seemed a bit against the idea. I wasn’t what people call popular. I’m that nerdy guy who spent all of his lunchtimes reading books in the library or being forced to hang out with Anna and Bart. 

I wasn’t all that attractive… or at least not anybody’s type. Any muscles that I had were hidden behind the sweater vests and white button-up shirts I wear. My eyes were covered by my fat framed glasses. My hair isn’t particularly maintained in any way. I dress like I’m an old man. Or at least that’s the explanation Anna gave me. She told me that I’d never get laid. But I don’t particularly care by this point. I’m working towards a good life, not good sex. Plus, not that anyone cares that much, but I’m not really the guy who is interested in girls.

I didn’t get enough time to refuse to play before everyone got sidetracked by a revving engine. Everyone turned to the giant window in the front, staring at whoever the new arrival was. Some of the women looked pissed and looked away, some lit up like Christmas trees (including Anna), and almost every man seemed ready to throw some punches. I couldn’t get a good look at who was getting such a reaction just from driving in the driveway.

Bart grabbed Anna’s arm and pulled her away from the window.

“I thought I told you not to invite him,” Bart growled quietly. Though not silent enough because, even though everyone acted like they couldn’t hear him, we all could. 

“You did,” Anna admitted. “But I was talking to him in the mechanic shop and I just…” Anna started swaying back and forth dreamily. It was the first time I’d ever seen her like that. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

“You’re my sister and he’s… him,” Bart seethed, trying his best not to shout. “I’m gonna tell him to leave.”

“Don’t you dare!” Anna yelled, causing Bart to grimace and everyone to turn as though it’s the first thing they heard. “I swear to God, you be a good host to all of our guests, including him, or I’m gonna make sure to fuck him tonight.”

Everyone stared wide-eyed. Bart included. That was quite the threat. Bart growled under his breath before slamming his fist on the table and sitting back down. Everyone went back to normal, though silently waiting for the new arrival to show up. 

I went over to Anna, leaning over her shoulder. She looked up at me, a look of triumph on her face.

“Who just showed up?” I asked curiously.

“You don’t know?” Anna spoke with surprise. “By all the reactions, everybody always knows who’s coming.”

“I… don’t…?” I confusingly answered.

“Jesus, Castiel, you really need to get out more often!” Anna laughed. She has no volume control, which causes a bit of trouble when we’re trying to have a private conversation in a room filled with people. “Dean Winchester is outside.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Oh, my God, Cas! Dean Winchester! You know? Bad boy on the block? Rides a motorcycle, gorgeous smile, leather jackets? Total womanizer. Every girl loves him. Except for the ones that have actually tried. They say he’s amazing but leaves almost as soon as it’s over, and next thing they know they hear about another girl who’s done it with him. He’s said to have impregnated a few. He’s got at least three kids, according to the rumor.”

“Wow, impressive,” I rolled my eyes. Most of those kinds of guys are attractive but only make up those stories because they want attention. I don’t give those kinds of attention seekers satisfaction. Plus they’re always straight anyway.

“There are a few people who claimed to go on a date with him, but they’re only rumors. He’s probably never gone on a real date before,” Anna continued. “The one lucky lady who actually catches his attention for more than a night, oh, do I envy her!”

“Jesus, Anna, could you be hornier?” Bart growled possessively before the door swung open. I didn’t even bother to look in the direction of the supposed playboy. I sat down, which caused everybody to cheer as it was an accidental invitation to play the game. Nobody particularly wanted me to play, but I’d heard a few people a bit ago wondering what it was like inside of my pants. I didn’t mean for this action to start my participation in the game, but it did. And now I was stuck. 

“Let’s start playing again then,” Anna spoke with excitement. “Dean, you wanna join?!”

It was silent. Dean didn’t answer. Though it was obvious that he was joining as there was a loud creak as somebody sat down on the couch and everybody cheered. They were much more excited by this new player than by me. I didn’t look up from the bottle, I would NOT even look at this asshole. Never one to give a fuck boy any sort of satisfaction.

“Dean, why don’t you go first?” Anna asked.

“Why not have the other guy first? It looks like he wants out of here as soon as possible. One turn and you can leave, right? That’s the rules?” Dean’s voice was very deep, smooth and calm. I could imagine the girls around the circle listening to every word like they were a thirsty dog and his voice was a big bowl of water.

“Aw, I’m touched that you remember the rules of the game,” Anna let out a fake sniffle as she spoke. “Fine, Cas, you can go first and get this over with if you want.”

I sighed deeply. No way out. My first ever kiss was going to be during a game of spin the bottle/7 minutes in heaven. What a disgusting thing. Even if I didn’t care about this kind of thing, I did care about the fact I’d be throwing away my first like this.

I spun the bottle, feeling a bit light headed as it spun around and around. It slowed and then stopped. It was pointing at someone on the couch, but I was too scared to look up at who too quickly. It could’ve been Bart, or Anna, or Dean. They were the only ones on the couch.

Nobody spoke. Everyone was silent. It took a lot of effort on my part to finally look up at who the bottle chose for me. My eyes met emerald green. They were vibrant and beautiful. I stared at them for longer than I should’ve. And they didn’t waver one second as they stared back at mine. 

The strange hypnosis was lifted and my eyes hardened. Shit, of course.

He was exactly as Anna had described him. Very attractive, leather jacket still on even though the room felt like it was over 100 degrees. He was wearing a Metallica t-shirt underneath that black leather, denim blue jeans, and brown boots. His hair was a very dirty blond and in a sort of spikey quiff, while his facial hair was kind of scruffy but maintained. His skin was slightly tanned. The perfect color, if you ask me. He had a diamond looking stud in his left ear and part of a tattoo peeking out from his shirt, just barely able to be seen on his neck. It looked like a big tattoo, but not visible from here. He had a slight frown on his face as he continued to stare at me while I looked him over. No matter how attractive he was, though, I hated him. I don’t like players. I don’t like attention seekers. 

“Alright, boys. The bottle has spoken. Get to it,” another player, Gadreel, a real idiot and hated by all of the school, spoke with haste. “I’ve got better things to do than watch you two stare at each other like you’re the main characters of some gay romance movie.”

Dean blinked his frozen state thawing as quickly as it came. He nodded, breathing heavily in response.

“Ready?” he asked calmly as if this entire situation was just another day in paradise. Although his lips were still turned down, a little less like paradise.

I didn’t answer before he climbed over the table and people between us, putting his hand on my cheek and carefully putting his lips against mine. My eyes widened as his closed, showing soft wrinkles around his eyes. He waited a minute, allowing me to calm down and close my eyes, before carefully pushing his tongue into my mouth, pulling me closer in order to provoke me to do the same. My mouth opened as I allowed my tongue to start roaming around his mouth, similar to what he was doing. My cheeks heated up as the enjoyment started to set in. He tasted like alcohol and cigarettes. Of course, he did. “Bad boy” 101 I’m sure. But even though that bitter taste invaded my mouth through his tongue, I found it to be even more enjoyable than I’d imagined. And I found myself liking the bitter taste. Eventually, our tongues started dancing around each other, no longer interested in exploring mouths. Then his mouth closed, his lips closing on my tongue and then reopening. I moved my tongue away and he closed his mouth again, grabbing my lip with his this time. When he let go, I did the same. It felt like an eternity before we both ran out of breath and pulled away from each other.

That’s when I was reminded of the game. I’d somehow forgotten that everybody was watching. I’d somehow forgotten that this was all just a game and that kiss meant absolutely nothing. I wiped the saliva off of my mouth, the blush in my cheeks getting hotter and redder as I looked around at everybody who had enjoyed the show. What a disgusting game.

I looked at Dean and his expression wasn’t readable. His lips were parted, his eyes focused on the pattern of the carpet underneath him. He hadn’t moved from his knelt position over the table. He didn’t look disappointed or sad or happy. He wasn’t gloating as I’d expect or laughing because of how gay that was. Honestly, he looked confused.

“Come on, guys. Time for the 7 minutes in heaven part. Closets over there,” Anna pointed behind me, towards a very familiar closet. A closet that Anna hid in while Bart was being his usual protective self. He found her almost instantly, apparently her regular hiding spot. I’d gotten in trouble with Bart too because she made me try to confuse him and get him off her trail. 

I studied Anna’s expression as she spoke. She seemed a little jealous and short tempered. Maybe she was hoping to get a little action tonight. It was her last night here, after all. And with how the war’s raging, she’ll never come back.

Dean stood up very slowly and calmly. Even with the way he looked after the kiss, and all the expressions I’ve seen him have, he was very calm in every movement. He grabbed my hand and pushed me into the closet. And I say it in a way that he was brutal or something, but he was a lot more gentle. I could see why the girls swooned for him. A very gentle way of doing things, even with how he looked and how his reputation brought forth. Even his French kiss, somehow, was gentle and caring. Though it probably didn’t mean anything to him. Probably just another way to show off to his friends.

As he pushed me into the closet, I was either expecting him to act repulsed at how gay that was or start the process of utter gayness. Neither were options that I was particularly ready for. But he closed the door behind him slowly, turned towards me, and stared at me. It wasn’t creepy, ‘I wanna fuck’, kind of stare. Nor was it an angry, ‘I can’t believe I had to kiss you’, kind of stare. It was a curious kind. A genuine, calm, innocent curiosity.

“I’m Dean,” he said in the same deep, calm voice, his lips starting to slowly curl up. “And you’re the famous Cas, right?”

“Famous?” I tilted my head, eyebrows furrowed. I was definitely not famous, nobody talked about the nerdy kids.

“Don’t act so modest,” he chuckled, bumping my shoulder. I sat in confusion before realizing he was messing with me. I frowned angrily, crossing my arms in a defensive stance.

“Are you trying to make me punch you?” I asked and he frowned before his smile grew. Perfectly white, straight teeth shimmered in the soft light of the closet as he laughed a bit. They were gorgeous teeth, especially considering the fact that he’s a smoker.

“I’ve heard Anna talk about you before,” he explained while laughing. “You seem like a cool guy from what she’s said. Not so short tempered at least.”

“I’m only short tempered with assholes,” I answered, turning away from him, walking right into the coats and jackets as a covering. I didn’t need this. I’d hold out until the 7 minutes were up, hopefully with little to no confrontation.

“Oh, come on. We’ve got another 6 and a half minutes, probably more if I know Anna well enough. Why we gotta make it silent and awkward? Let’s have a nice talk,” he sighed. 

“I don’t think so,” I grumbled. “We just kissed in front of a bunch of people for a stupid game. That’s good cause for awkwardness.”

“It was just for the game. Why crash a possible friendship because of a forced kiss?”

“Because it’s not just the kiss, obviously. It’s because you’re an ass,” I answered irritably, my temper a lot shorter than usual, as he’d pointed out. I turned around to find him gripping at the door frame, his head hanging down between his shoulders.

“Wow, I guess I just completely misread you then,” he spoke with a little chuckle. At first, what seemed to be anger, I realized was amusement. He was holding back laughter. “You know, you’re pretty good at kissing. For an amateur.”

My cheeks reddened as I turned back around, sitting in between a brown trenchcoat and a big multilayered greenish brown jacket. I stared at the trench coat, a little smile on my face as I thought about what I’d look like in one. I’d always wanted a trench coat, it was a strange obsession that nobody understood. It seemed like it’d look good on top of a really nice suit. I chuckled a bit to myself, my embarrassment from seconds before gone.

He hit his head against the door impatiently. I laughed in unison with rolling my eyes. He was kind of like a child. I had a soft spot for children, even if they were “bad boy” kids. I stood up again, groping at the rough materials of the trench coat.

“You know, they can hear you out there. They probably think we’re fucking in here,” I said as I walked back and forth behind the clothes. It was a moderately large closet, able to fit about 3-4 people on either side of the clothing hung in the middle. He stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Who says that’s not my intention?” he asked. “Maybe I want them to think that I’m fucking you. It’s like free publicity.”

“And who says I want publicity?” I asked, getting irritated again. “Free or otherwise.”

“Oh, come on. High schoolers are always looking for publicity. They always want to be in all the local sexual gossip. Even if they’ve gotta lie to get it,” he said simply, sounding almost bitter. “So might as well make really loud sexual screams. Sell it, right?”

“I don’t want to,” I grumbled. “I don’t need to be publicly shamed for having sex with the local bad boy. Or for having sex with anyone.”

“Publicly shamed, huh? That’s what having a reputation is called to you?”

“That’s not a good reputation,” I shook my head. “I’m not interested in any kind of reputation anyways. I just want to get through school and get to work.”

“Army?”

“Hell no!” I laughed. “I’m not an army guy. I can barely hold up a paperweight. I would never be able to survive the war. Not that anybody ever survives the war.”

“Oh, so you’re looking to survive through all of this then?” he sighed. “You’re that kind of person?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I walked with my back against the wall, staring at his back angrily. He’s trying to shame me? Him?

He laughed loudly. “I was getting you back.”

“Wh---?”

“You were being really Godly about sex and reputations. I was just getting you back. Not that I care. In fact, I think getting out of the war is a great idea. But it’s a rather cowardly response, so you aren’t all perfection and Godliness either.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond. He was right. I had my own flaws, of course, I did. Everybody does. But… I was acting high and mighty? I wasn’t meaning to be…

It was at most a minute before the next part of the conversation was brought up. By me, damn.

“So how old are you?” I asked. I didn’t really like being in this small space with another person for what felt like forever without talking. Surprisingly enough.

He turned towards me, his eyes glimmering in the dim lights. They really were gorgeous. Those are the kinds of eyes that made my gay-o-meter go all over the place. His expression was once again unreadable.

“I’m 21,” he answered matter of factly. For a minute, we just stared at each other. I was frozen with surprise. 21?

“Wait… that’s illegal!” I yelled and he responded with intense laughter, his eyes closing as tears formed out of the laughter.

“Oh my God, I didn’t know that being 21 is illegal! I guess I gotta turn myself in… how much time do I have to serve for?” he joked. “Hopefully a year, otherwise that’s just not fair!”

“This isn’t funny,” I growled. “It was bad enough to hear that you supposedly sleep around with a bunch of girls, but you’re 21! Sleeping with people under 18 is illegal! That’s even worse!”

For a moment he stared at me. It was a hard stare, filled with anger.

“Of course it is, idiot,” he growled, emerald eyes filled with rage. “What were you thinking? Do I look like someone 18 or younger to you?”

“You’ve been taking advantage of underage women! For what?! For fun?! What the hell is wrong with you?! God, you’re disgusting!” my tangent continued on and on for the entirety of the rest of the time until Anna came and got us from the closet. Dean didn’t even get a chance to talk with me before I walked out of the house and towards home. I was angry. I was furious.

He was 21. He’d been messing around with underage girls. Even if he was just trying to get attention, even if it was all lies, he was telling people he fucked underage women. And that’s one of the most disgusting things I’ve heard in a long time.


	2. A morning in the Winchester's home

Dean’s POV

I stared at the ceiling, internally facepalming at my utter stupidity. My head pounded from last night's events, a groan escaping my dry lips. After that Cas guy ran off, I drank more than enough to get drunk. The bike got a little beat up, but I miraculously survived the drive home. But as I lay in bed, I felt ready to die.

There was a knock on my door, and only seconds later, it opened. I could hear a laugh as the intruder came into the room.

“Dude, how much did you drink last night?” Sammy, my kid brother joked as he barged in. I slothfully sat up, grateful that he’d decided to keep the lights off. “You look like death, Dean.” He held out a bottle of water, waiting for me to grab it. I groaned softly, grabbing the unwelcomed bottle.

“No coffee?” I spoke in a softer voice than usual.

“Water’s better for you,” he answered without hesitation. “Since when do you get drunk?”

“I don’t. This is just side effects of awesomeness,” I winked, my head exploding with pain. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have school?”

“School isn’t starting for a few more hours today,” he explained with excitement, sitting next to me on my bed. “Plus, I wanted to stick around and see how shitfaced you’d be when you woke up.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” I spilled the bottle’s contents on his jeans. He yelled, shooting up from my bed, bursting into laughter. When all the laughter subsided, he sat back down.

“Anna and Bart left this morning,” he reminded sadly. I nodded. He’d been too busy with homework and essays to be able to go to their farewell party. He was heartbroken about it. He’d known those two for a long time. They used to be great friends.

The really tight friendship between them sadly ended a few years back when Anna confessed that she was in love with me. 4 years younger than me, the same age as my kid brother, that couldn’t happen of course. I’d never been able to do something like that, especially since she’s underage and I’m… not. So things got awkward. Anna and Bart stopped coming over. Sammy stopped going over to their house. They’d talk at school and Sam was always invited to Anna’s parties, as well as me. But he rarely ever went to any of them, and I went to them every so often. I don’t really know why myself.

“I told them that you couldn’t make it,” I said. “They told me to tell you that they understand and love you. They’ll miss you.”

Sam nodded sadly. “I wanted to make it and say goodbye.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’ll see them again,” I lied.

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head. I could see tears forming in his eyes. I shook my head as well. It really was heartbreaking. After all, the three of them had been through, it was hard to think that those two were never gonna be coming back. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” I sighed. My head still pounded but it was fading by the minute as my thoughts were flooded with making my brother feel better. I bumped his shoulder as he sniffled, a tear falling from his eye. “How about we both call in sick today? Take a day off and watch movies? Binge eat a little? What do ya think?”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “This is why you keep getting fired, Dean. You need to go to work. And I need to go to school, believe it or not. I miss a few days of school, the next thing I know, I’m going to be enrolled in the army.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Sammy. They need smarties to stick around here for a political stance,” I laughed, pushing him farther on the bed playfully. “You’re definitely too smart to be thrown into the army.”

“And what about you?” his mood shifted again. I rubbed my eyes, frowning at the thought.

“Well, if they call me to go, I guess it’s what has to be done,” I explained. “I’m already enrolled. It’s all up to chance now.”

Sam looked at me with big puppy eyes. “You… I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, man. I won’t,” I laughed. It doesn’t feel real. We sit together, silent, heads down, as my hangover seems to disappear, more or less. “Hey, you know that weird, nerdy kid? I think his name’s… Cas or something?”

“Castiel Novak? The short guy who I always see at the library during lunch or hanging around Anna and Bart in the halls?” Sam asked. Oh no, my little brother spends his lunchtime in the library! Oh, God. I laughed a bit to myself. “Why do you want to know about him?”

“You know how old he is?” I asked curiously. “Also… nerd…” I snickered.

“Wh---? What did I do this time?” he whined dramatically.

“You see him at the library during lunch,” I laughed. “God, can you be nerdier?” He pouted for a short second. “Now, answer the question, future librarian.”

“He’s 18, a senior, I think. Why do you want to---?” he cut himself off. “Oh, no… no! He is so not your type!”

I looked up at him, surprised at his sudden accusation. 

“What the hell kind of reaction is that?” I groaned. “Jesus, you act as though I’m always so horny.”

“Well, you kinda---”

“No, I am not! Shut up before I slam you into this bed!” I grabbed onto his face and he laughed loudly. It was the same laugh he’s had since he was a baby. It made me laugh anytime I heard it. He was adorable as a baby. “I met him at the party last night. He seemed like a fun guy. I want to talk to him again. That’s all there is to it. I don’t want to get into his pants.”

“Oh, God, please shut up!” he groaned loudly. “I don’t want to hear anything about you wanting to get into anything with anyone.”

“Oh, how old are you?” I mocked. “I thought you were 17, not 12.” I poked his side playfully.

He looked towards the clock on my nightstand, before jumping up. “Work is starting for you in 15 minutes! Get your ass up before I throw you out of here while you’re wearing your underwear!”

“Watch your profanity, young man, or I’m gonna have to whoop your ass up and down the street,” I joked, slapping his butt before he ran out of the room laughing.

“You’re always, oh, so funny, old man!” he yelled before slamming the door to his room. 

I sighed, stretching my arms over my head. My head didn’t hurt anymore, but I was thirsty as hell. Kinda wished I hadn’t poured all of my water out on Sam’s lap. I stood up slowly, noticing that I was indeed only wearing my underwear. Did I take those off last night? No, probably not. I probably threw up on my clothes, so Sam took them off for me and put them in the laundry basket. Good kid, my little brother.

I went to my closet, opening it quickly and grabbing out one of my three “identical” leather jackets (Sam says their identical even though I know better), a Black Veil Brides t-shirt, and some dark blue jeans- leather belt already attached. On the floor, by my bed, sat a pair of cowboy boots. I would have rathered to go to work with something a little easier on my feet, but it looked like this was the only option for now. All my other shoes had mysteriously disappeared. I’d have to go on a shoe search when I got home. 

While I got myself dressed, I thought back to that nerdy guy from last night. Castiel Novak, huh? He was kind of cute. And… that was his first kiss, obviously. But damn, it was good. Much better than any experienced person I’d ever kissed. Everything about it showed immaturity, from the movement to the taste. He tasted like vanilla. That’s very ironic for a very vanilla man. 

He was very obviously gay too. Almost to a fault. Though it seemed somehow, most people didn’t even know it. How could someone not automatically assume just by looking at him? Everything- from what he wore to the way he spoke- was gay. 

Sam assumed he wasn’t my type. But what did he know? I know my type, and that guy was totally my type. The vanilla, kind of cute underneath all the nerdiness, high and mighty “I’m smarter than you” attitude, hardass kind of temper. All of it was perfect. And he’s 18. Although I couldn’t expect something to come from knowing him. 

When all of my wardrobe was put on, Sam yelled on cue, telling me to move my ass. I had to take him to school since I haven’t saved enough to get him a car and Jess was already back home by now. Just a few more weeks and I’d have enough so he wouldn’t have to borrow Jess or ride on the back of my motorcycle. He’d be so happy to never get on that bike again. 

I ran through the modest apartment, finding him in the mini kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and a slice of cheese. He turned to see me, shoved the bread and cheese into his mouth all at once. I laughed loudly, walking out the door. He booked it passed me, down the stairs towards the parking lot a story below us. I laughed as I slid down the ramp, beating him to the bottom by a landslide. I ran towards the bike and jumped on at the same time as he made it to the bottom of the stairs. I waved at him and he shook his head with a laugh. 

“Oh, oh, who won? Who made it to the bike first? Like he does every day? Huh? Who won?” I mocked, punching his shoulder as he walked towards me, hands up in surrender. “Did I win? Me?”

“Ok, ok, asshat,” he laughed. “I’ll get you someday, you just wait.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. “When I’m 5 feet under maybe.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Sam spoke impatiently as he jumped on the back of the bike. I handed him the only helmet like I always did and he strapped it on. 

I revved the engine a few times, earning a groan from Sam. Checking the watch on my wrist, making sure to be aware of how much I needed to obey the speed limit. Sam’s school was only about 3 minutes away if I hit every stop light on the way. My work was another 3 minutes from that if I miss every stop light. He didn’t need to get to school for another 20 or so minutes, so the only worry was my work. I had exactly 9 minutes to get to work. I could be a minute late, but more than 5 minutes would be pushing Bobby’s patience and heaven forbid 10 minutes would give the guy a heart attack. So speeding… probably the best idea by this point.

I finished messing around and made sure to catch Sammy off guard as I pumped the gas, the bike speeding out of the driveway and down the street. I missed every stop light that came my way up to Sam’s school like I always did. It’s what Sam always referred to as a lucky fluke, but what I call successful calculation.

Stopping outside of the parking lot, as Sam always wanted, he handed me my helmet and ran off. After all of the rumors started going around about me and a bunch of high schoolers from the town, he didn’t want to continue to be associated with it. Instead of me dropping him right at the front of the school, he told me to stop on the side of the road and he’d walk the distance. It was sad, but I didn’t want him to be associated with all of that either, so I didn’t complain and rather agreed.

“See ya at home, bitch,” I called and he turned towards me, laughing.

“Get to work, jerk,” he yelled back before running towards the side doors of the school. I watched him walk into the doors, paranoid as always to make sure he made it into the school without trouble. A few years back, I was able to stop him from being beaten to a bloody pulp right next to the door. I knew it was my fault, they were yelling about how he was just as much a man whore like me and that kind of thing. It was a mess, and I was able to help at least a little. He knew it was my fault too, and never gave me a thanks. Not that I deserved it.

When he went into the school, I turned away, sighing heavily. I looked at my watch. 5 minutes. I groaned. I could get there with time to spare if calculations served like normal. But I really didn’t want to go to work. I looked up and found myself staring at a recognizable kid. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and tie underneath a knitted light blue vest and some khaki pants. He held a mountain of books to his chest but looked right at me as I looked at him. He glared at me, almost visibly sick. I waved over at him, but looked back at my watch and decided I couldn’t stay and chat. Not that I would’ve, he obviously didn’t have any intention of wanting to chat.

I revved the engine and drove off, giving him a silent salute-like wave as I left. I hooked my helmet onto the backseat buckle that I installed for Sam years back. I’d been sidetracked and forgot to put the helmet on, not that it really mattered. If I got into a crash, I’d probably die no matter if the helmet was on or not. And I could think of worse ways to go, so I’d never try to fight a good death so excessively. The wind in my hair felt great anyway. I couldn’t think of a better sensation if I tried.

I made it to work 1 minute early. Bobby stared at me in surprise.

“You’re actually early,” the old handicap gasped, wheeling his way towards me as though he was a proud father. He kind of was, he was kind of a surrogate father to Sam and me for a while. But that was before I dropped school, got myself a job, and started taking care of my little bro myself.

“Don’t act so surprised, Bobby,” I rolled my eyes. “Sam needed to get to school, so he successfully forced me here early.” No way I’d give that old man the satisfaction. I loved him to death, but it’s a lot more fun to mess with him than to love him. In fact, that’s exactly how he felt about me.

“Oh, aren’t you just the perfect little shit?” he responded, hitting my ankle with his wheelchair.

Bobby had an accident underneath a car a few months back, crushing his legs and paralyzing them forever. That’s why he hired me to work in the auto shop since he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d been offered new robotic legs, but for some reason, he always refused. Always. He never told me why, and I don’t think he ever will. A very closed off man, that guy.

“I’m gonna man the phone like normal,” Bobby sighed, getting back to business. “You better make customers welcome. I’m not afraid to fire your ass.”

“When have I ever made customers feel unwelcome?” I asked smartly and he glared at me. I put my hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’ll make them feel so welcome, they’ll never want to leave.”

“You better. Oh, and I’m gonna need you to work a few hours longer than usual. There’s someone who needs you to go to their house because their car broke down in their parking lot. But nobody will be home until around 9 pm and they didn’t want somebody near their house when they’re not around.”

I whined loudly and he gave me a mocking pouty face.

“Oh, boohoo!” he yelled and wheeled himself to the booth where the phones… and AC was.

“You’re a slave driver!” I screamed at him. “You better pay me extra for this!” he put his middle finger up, right next to the glass between the two of us, and looked down at the desk where paperwork was stacked like a mountain. I whined loudly, before getting dressed for work.

It was a very specific uniform Bobby’s workers had to wear. For safety, he said. Any clothes or jewelry other than what he allowed was strictly prohibited. Apparently, any access clothing could snag on something and cause all sorts of outcomes. And metal jewelry can get caught on certain tools we use that have magnets.

He wouldn’t let me take any part of this uniform home, out of fear that I’ll lose it. So I was supposed to come in my regular clothes, get changed into the uniform in the back locker room, work a few hours, then put my regular clothes back on and go home (leaving my uniform in the locker room, in one of the three or four different lockers that were never used).

The uniform consisted of a pair of old gray fitted overalls over a skin-tight black bodysuit and big brown metal shop boots. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once I was dressed, I went out to the shop and waited for a customer. And what a long day of waiting it was.


	3. Cas Thought He'd Just Be Getting His Car Fixed

Castiel’s POV

School wasn’t open for the first few periods today. Nobody knew why and nobody cared, including me. It had given me the chance to, first: find out that my car broke down, second: call a mechanic to come to my house later today, and third: walk to school. So all in all, I was lucky and in a not-so-bad mood today, even with how horrible a broken car was. I lived several blocks away from the school, after all.

It was a good day until I saw Dean Winchester… on his motorcycle… watching the school. I didn’t know what he was doing there, nor did I want to know. But even with all of that, I kept thinking about it. Was he looking for a girl to hit? Was he checking out underage women? Choosing a new girl to ruin by making rumors that he fucked her? God, I hated him.

Not only that but when he saw me, he ran off. Just drove away without even trying to explain himself. Well… I guess he didn’t have any reason to explain anything to me. But it looked like he was running away from me. Even though he waved at me, he looked like he was running. He looked guilty of something. 

The whole day I was fuming about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not even during lunch when I was reading my newest book. Not even during class lectures where I usually would be so revetted that I couldn’t look away. He really, REALLY pissed me off.

During lunch, however, I noticed some guy looking towards me every so often. He was another guy who was always in the library during lunch. We never talked, since it’s not allowed in the library. His name was… Sam… or something. I heard some older guy call him Moose once, so maybe that was his nickname or his real name. I had no clue. I knew he was a senior at least. But that he looked kinda young. Though his height made him into a pro basketball player in my eyes.

But for some reason all lunch period, he kept looking at me. Even when his girlfriend joined him like she usually did, he continued to steal glances in my direction. I wondered as I looked at his very lovely girlfriend if Dean did it with her too. She seemed like someone he’d go for. Sweet and innocent looking. Although I knew nothing about Dean, so maybe that wasn’t the kind of girl he liked at all. The girlfriend seemed to notice his continuous glances in my direction and he whispered something in her ear that made her eyes light up. It looked like she was about to come over to me, come talk to me. But he grabbed her arm and repeatedly shook his head until she understood and sat down again.

I didn’t even bother to confront them about what the hell all of that was about. I just kept fake reading and ran off as quickly as I could when the bell rang for the next class. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to know. Especially since that Sam guy was HUGE and intimidating. No way in hell was I going to allow myself to get murdered by anyone at the school, him included.

By the end of the school day, I had forgotten I had even seen Dean. I was ready to get home, have a few hours of homework and studying before the mechanic came by to fix up my car.

And that’s exactly what happened. I got home, got something to eat, did some homework and studying, accidentally fell asleep for a little while. By 9, I was refreshed and replenished.

The house had been all mine for a while. Aunt Amara had gone for political purposes, and she took her daughter and son, Naomi and Ishim, with her. Dad was off to war, and so was Micheal and Raphael. Luci was in prison for the thousandth time, which also earned him a place in the war. Gabriel was on the run from the army and said he wasn’t going to be back for a while. So that left me home alone until Amara and her kids came back. Amara and the cousins weren’t the best housemates in the world, I could barely stand them. So by the time they got back, I was hoping to find a job and get the hell out.

I heard a knock on the door and stood up from my seat at the dining room table. My papers, my job options, everything, was all piled up there, horribly unorganized.

Another knock landed on the door and I ran to it. Opening it at lightning speeds, I couldn’t help my jaw dropping in surprise. Dean Winchester, just my luck. His green eyes widened in surprise, showing he had no clue I was going to be the one behind the door.

“Nope,” I said quickly and slammed the door in his face. I could hear his groan through the door.

“I’m just here to fix your car,” he called through the door. “All I need is the keys and the car. I’ll get to work, you can stay in your house, and I’ll leave as soon as I’m done.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but instead of refusing as I’d planned, I reminded myself of how hot it was out there. I hated walking more than 10 blocks in the heat every day because of a broken car. In addition to that, when Amara got back, she was going to be pissed to find out the car had been broken this entire time and didn’t get fixed.

“Damn it,” I stomped my foot on the ground. I stomped over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the car keys and brought them back to the door. I opened it, face red with fury. “Follow me,” I growled. He just stood there, back towards the door, kicking the rocks that invaded the walking path back to the bed of rocks just next to it while he’d been waiting. He turned back, surprised at the invitation.

He followed me through the hallway towards the garage, not saying a word. I didn’t care to look back at him. I kept my face towards the door, clenched fists by my sides, trying to control my breathing. It had been a long time since I had been this angry before. Not since Luci got thrown into jail last. Not since Dad yelled at me when I came out as gay. Not since Amara moved in.

I opened the door to the garage, slamming the keys against his chest. He caught them before they fell, but he still looked surprised when I touched his chest. I was a little surprised too. And wow, his chest was like a rock!

“There it is,” I waved towards the white van in the garage. “Now, please, just hurry up!”

I slammed the door closed and screamed “FUUUCK” as I ran back to the kitchen. I’d finally gotten over this morning, but here he was again. It’s like he was everywhere now! Just so suddenly, I take one glance and I see him. I just found out about the guy yesterday, dammit!

I fell onto the couch, screaming into one of the pillows. When that didn’t work, I started hitting the pillow against the couch cushion beside me. I could hear the pillow ripping, which was the reason I stopped.

Then a crazy thought came to my mind. It was so crazy, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.

I stood up, setting the pillow back in its rightful spot. I walked through the dining room, through the hallway, and straight through the door into the garage.

At first, I didn’t know where he was. It honestly looked like he ran off. The garage door was open, and the car was outside in the driveway up to the garage for some reason. That’s definitely not where it had been seconds before. On the curb was a mechanic truck. ‘Bobby’s Mechanics’ was written in big red bubble letters. So he didn’t run off since his work truck was still there.

Then I noticed him kneeling on the floor, hand clutching onto his chin as if he were in deep thought. I stared for a long time, in a strange unthinkable trance. He was a truly gorgeous man. And for some reason, that’s all I could think. There was no anger for that short few seconds. I couldn’t feel anything . Anything I could understand or name anyway.

It took me a moment before the feeling left, and my anger resurfaced. One move and all the hatred came flooding back. He stood up, rubbed his head with a sigh, and turned towards me. When he saw me, he looked surprised again. He gave me a small smile with a tilt of his head. Very innocent looking, which pissed me off more.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “You probably have homework or something, right? Get to work. You can’t get out of the army just standing around and watching some guy you don’t like fix your car.”

I glared at him while getting closer, arms crossed. “You don’t have any right to tell me what to do,” I spouted matter of factly. “I already did all my homework and I want to make sure you don’t key my car or something.”

“Oh, please,” he shook his head. “Imagine what kind of shit the shop would get if I keyed someone’s car.”

“Imagine what kind of shit you’d get if you fucked underage girls,” I shot back, arms tightening around my chest. He looked down, laughing in unison with shaking his head. He turned around, walking towards the truck on the curb. I followed instinctively. “What? I offend you? You want to go back to the shop and raise a middle finger to the boss? Seems like something someone like you would do.”

He didn’t respond nor did he stop his walk into the truck. I was expecting him to start the engine and drive away or something, but he came back out again only seconds later. He was holding a tool kit, bigger than any I’d ever seen. Definitely heavier than I could ever hope to lift.

“Please, kid. If I got offended by that kind of shit that easily, I’d have moved out of this shitty town a long time ago,” he laughed cockily as he walked back to the van. 

“So… if you get that kind of shit often, what are you doing it for?” I ask. He set the toolbox down beside the hood of the car. It took him a long time to recover.

“So, what kind of work are you hoping to do when you graduate? Doctor? Politician?” he changed the subject. He didn’t seem to be listening as he pulled the hood up and started searching around, for whatever problem my van was having.

“I’m gonna be a doctor,” I answered simply. “I hate politics.”

He laughed loudly. “What’s wrong with politics?”

“Politicians are liars. They try to hide important matters from the public because they don’t want us involved. Even though we are and are thrust into those matters suddenly with no warning anyway. They think, for some reason, we can’t handle the important matters, yet make us simultaneously handle them. I hate liars, and I don’t want to become one. And I don’t want to hide important matters from people,” I was surprised to have answered so honestly. I didn’t think he was listening, but that didn’t mean I should answer so honestly anyway. He nodded, grabbing some sort of strange tool I couldn’t recognize.

“I see,” he said. “That’s a good reason. But why a doctor? You may still have to go into the field of war, you know. It’s almost as dangerous as being a soldier. And it’s a lot of blood.”

“I’ve had plenty of experience with blood, so that’s something I can handle. And it’s not nearly as dangerous in the doctor and nurse tents than out in the trenches and forests. I have no fighting skills. But anything from basic first aid to effectively removing limbs, I can do with relative ease.”

“Alright,” Dean laughed, looking up at me for a minute. “But no matter what kind of job you have out there, I don’t think that you’ll ever come back the same. Whether physically, mentally, or both.”

“Wow, a little dramatic,” I shake my head. “It’s so obvious why all the girls fawn over you.” It seemed normal for the ‘bad boy’ type to have a ‘death is everywhere, I could care less’ kind of attitude. But those kinds of dramatics didn’t seem his type. After a minute, it was apparent he didn’t know what to say. “So… you’re a mechanic then?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. I noticed his tongue stuck out as he concentrated. “I don’t have much skill in any other areas.” He grabbed the wrench out of the toolbox, yanking his arm back and forth inside the hood. I couldn’t tell what he was doing. In fact, I’d never even seen the inside of the hood of a car before, everything about it was foreign to me.

“Why do you say that?” I asked. 

“I’m just not all that smart with any school things. And since I was 4, car fixing was shoved down my throat. And eventually, I learned that I actually enjoy it too. So everything worked out, I guess,” he answered. He seemed reluctant to share more. 

“From 4?” I questioned in surprise. That seemed to make sense, he knew what he was doing like the back of his hand, it seemed. But 4’s so young for something like that.

“Yeah, my dad decided that I should learn early on,” he laughed. I could almost detect bitterness in his voice. “What about you? What are your parents like?”

“Oh, well…” I laughed at the fact that we were talking so openly with each other. Neither of us knew each other very well, and I despised him, yet I was about to talk with him about my family. “I never really met my mom. She left when I was born. Apparently, she didn’t want a family. She had ‘made a mistake’ or something.”

“That’s horrible,” he sighed with a shake of his head.

“But my dad stuck around. Took care of all 5 of us boys,” I explained. “He was a pretty neglectful guy, but he tried his best. A few months back, he got called into the army though. Him and two of my brothers. He didn’t want me to be alone, so he asked my aunt and her 2 kids to live with us.”

“And where are they now?” he asked. “It looks like you’ve been home alone for a while now.”

“My aunt had a call to go to Washington for work. And she took Ishim and Naomi with her,” I explained.

“What about your 2 other brothers?” he inquired. I was a little surprised, my ‘2 other brothers’. Sure, I’d only said things about 2 of my brothers, but how did he remember that I’d missed 2?

“Well, Gabe is a kind of crazy guy. He ran off a while ago and said he would be back in a few months. I’ve checked up on him a few times, but he can’t tell me where he is or what he’s doing,” I explained as vaguely and selective as I could.

“Wow,” he shook his head a little. He straightened up from his position over the hood, dropping the wrench into the toolbox. It made a loud clank. He went around to the driver’s side of the van, hopping in. “What about the other one?”

My eyes fell to the floor. I didn’t talk about Luci, not to anyone. And definitely not to him.

“That’s not any of your business,” I grumbled. He looked at me calmly before turning the key in the ignition. The engine started for a minute, then died out. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Alright then,” he responded. “So, Cas, why are you talking to me?” He got out of the van and started towards his truck again. I followed. 

“I… don’t really know,” I answered with a laugh. “Weird, huh?”

“Definitely,” he agreed. “You seem to hate my guts.”

“I honestly have no clue why I’m talking to you. My impulse control is all over the place, I guess,” I laughed, and he nodded. He opened the trunk to his truck, grabbing the biggest skateboard I’d ever seen. I could only imagine it was used to get underneath the car. But I didn’t know.

We were silent for a bit, as he grabbed his tools, put the board on the ground. It wasn’t until he was down under the car, doing God knows what, that I found another conversation starter.

“What the hell is up with your clothes?” I asked with a soft chuckle. It had just occurred to me that he was wearing probably the ugliest and oldest overalls in history. 

He started laughing, rolling back out from under the car. “What? You like it?” he gave me a flirty face. I felt flustered for only a moment, before coming back to my senses and hating him again, even more than before.

“God, you’re horrible,” I groaned. 

“Come on, dude. I’m just messing with you,” he sighed, totally unfazed. He rolled back under.

“I hate you,” I sighed, slowly lowering myself to the ground so I could sit next to him.

“Ok,” he said calmly as if it did not affect him. As if it was just another day in the life of Dean Winchester. “These are my work clothes. It’s a mandatory uniform.”

“They look like they should be in a museum,” I chuckled.

“That’s what I’ve told Bobby,” he agreed. “But he refuses to get new ones, he just resizes them when new guys come in.”

“How long have you worked for this Bobby guy?” I wondered.

“For a few months. He got into an accident and can’t work on cars anymore. Gave me the job, knowing I was unemployed and was good with cars. But I’ve known him practically my whole life,” he explained. “He’s an old stubborn grump, but he’s an amazing and understanding guy at the same time. As soon as you dig your way through all of the ‘big bad,’ ‘I hate everyone’ crap.”

“Seems like an interesting character,” I laughed. “You say you’ve known him your whole life? How’d you meet him?”

“My dad and he were hunting buddies since before I was born,” he explained with a sad tone. “I used to call him Uncle Bobby. He used to take care of my brother and me anytime dad was out.”

“You have a brother?” I asked in surprise. He seemed like an only child kind of guy.

He pushed himself out from under the car. A soft, proud smile decorated his face. “Yeah, I’ve got a brother.”

I’d never seen that kind of reaction from anyone before. Especially when talking about siblings. He looked more like a proud father than a brother.

“He’s a great kid,” he explained. “Got a great future ahead of him.”

“How old is he?” I asked. Dean sounded like the older brother from the way he talked about him. 

“17,” he answered swiftly, rolling back down after grabbing the wrench again. I could hear the clicking from down under.

“17? Is he in school?” 

“Of course,” he answered as if that was obvious. “Your school, in fact.”

“What?” I jumped up, surprised. Did I know this kid? Who was he?

“Yeah, his name’s Sam,” he explained. “He’s a grade higher than he’s supposed to be. Really bright kid. Knows more than I could ever imagine.”

Sam? That giant? The kid who kept staring at me during lunch? He barely looked anything like Dean!

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I laughed. “I’ve seen him around before. Never would’ve imagined he had someone like you as a brother. He’s so soft-spoken. I mean he sits in the library during lunch!”

“He’s nothing like me,” Dean said simply. It seemed like that was the best part about him in Dean’s mind by the way he said it. “He’s got a future, a good future. And he’s smart.”

“You keep talking as though you don’t have those things,” I thought aloud. It’s strange, he sounded so ashamed of himself. 

“I’ve made too many mistakes to have a good anything,” he didn’t even hesitate. His voice was hard and matter of fact, like there was nothing more to it.

I didn’t know what to say. That didn’t sound right. He sounded like everything in his life was a regret. That doesn’t sound like the kind of person I believed he was. He was supposed to be the kind of guy who wanted to throw his life away. The kind of guy who didn’t give a fuck, and would do anything he wanted no matter the consequences. The kind of guy… like Luci.

Shit. The idea came into my head that… he was trying to make me feel bad. He couldn’t handle being hated, so he was attempting to get me to pity him. It made my anger bubble up again.

“You know, you almost had me there,” I laughed bitterly. “You almost got me to feel bad for you. As if you actually regret your past choices. As if you were something at least remotely worth being around.”

I clenched my fists, angry at him but mostly angry at myself. He almost had me. It was disgusting. He didn’t respond, which only furthered my suspicions. He was a horrible, no good, piece of shit. There was nothing else to it.

“You’re absolutely disgusting, you know that?!” I yelled, standing up. I grabbed his legs and pulled him out from underneath the car. And he just laid there, eyes weary, not saying a word. He didn’t look surprised, nor did he look guilty. He looked purely sad. “Stop looking at me like that! As if you’re more than just some disgusting, pedophilic liar!”

So he stopped. He stopped looking. He turned away, staring at the house across the street. The expression didn’t change, just the direction it was facing. 

“God, I hate people like you!” I roared, pushing him back under the car. As soon as he was back under, I heard the clicking of the wrench again. “What?! You’re not even going to try to act innocent?!”

“No,” he spoke smoothly.

“Oh, and why not?!” I yelled, punching the hood of the car as hard as I could. My knuckles burned. “Because you want to be at least a little decent and not deny when you lie?!”

“No.”

“Oh, my God!” I screamed. “You’re a snake!”

He pushed out from under the car, standing up slowly and walking to the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition. The engine started, and it lasted. He left the car on as he started to get packed up.

As soon as all of his things were back in the truck, he went back to the van and drove it back into the garage. I hadn’t moved an inch. I was fuming, radiating with rage. It was truly not something I could express. 

“That’s $20 labor,” he informed when he walked out of the car.

“Bobby told me it was over $50 per hour,” I grumbled, pulling out my wallet.

He shrugged. “Bobby’s old. He mixes things up. Labor is $20 per hour,” he informed.

“You’ve been here for at least an hour and a half,” I begrudgingly inform.

“I round down,” he held out his hand towards me. “$20.”

I pulled a 20 out of my wallet, slapping it on his hand. He turned around and walked away. And I was already on my way inside.

My blood boiled. And to think, I’d told him so much about myself. I was disgusted in him, and myself. Hopefully, that was going to be the last time I saw him. That’s what I thought. I went inside once I’d closed the garage door. 


	4. Dean's Sick

Dean’s POV

When I got back to the shop, Bobby was gone. He probably turned in as soon as I left. Went back home. After all, the workday was over. I had my own key so I wasn’t locked out and unable to change. This wouldn’t be considered the first time this kind of thing has happened. 

It took me about a minute to get completely undressed. I took a shower for a few seconds in the locker room showers, before quickly putting my casual clothes on. Almost in the same frame of time, it took to take the work clothes off. It was only about a 3-minute process that I went through every day.

I felt tired. Just completely worn out. Not that it showed from my 3-minute routine. 

I pulled the 20 out of my overalls pocket, staring at it. I was bewildered with myself. I should’ve gotten $82.50 from that job alone. Labor is $55 per hour. And like hell, I round down with any money ever. And now I had only earned $3.50 from that job. A job where I was attacked by some nerdy kid who didn’t know jack squat about my life.

Why in hell would I allow him to only pay 20? I couldn’t stop mentally slapping myself every time I thought about it. Bobby got 20% earnings for every job, and I was not gonna tell him I let someone pay less than 25% of what I’d earned. Even though I had a brother to look out for, his education to take care of, I’d barely gotten enough to put food on our table as it was.

It felt worse than dirt to think about. Causing me to also feel the same dirtiness. I locked up the store again and slowly sank onto my bike. This guy had gotten deep into my mind. He got me to say things I’d never admitted, and then he threw it all back in my face. And in relation… I was tired.

I drove home in a bit of a daze. And when I was outside of the apartment, I sat on the steps and smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes. Sam was inside, on a date night with Jess, like every night seemed to be after she snuck out of her house. Usually, I would’ve just gone in and joined them without a second thought. It was probably really obnoxious for them, but they always welcomed me with a smile and a spot on the couch. It was my place, after all, they couldn’t just kick me out.

I didn’t really feel like it tonight, however. I was pretty contempt with smoking on the stairs alone anyway. The only thing I lacked was the vodka in the pantry inside. I could’ve gone to the store and bought some so that I wouldn’t have to go inside but I only had $3.50 from today until Bobby got me the rest from other jobs. I couldn’t blow off all my money on drinks for the time. I still had a car to buy for Sammy.

It was a few hours later when Jess decided she should get home. There were selective days like that where she couldn’t stay all night like usual. I had stopped smoking by the time the previously full pack had only about 2 cigarettes left. My head pounded from how much I’d been thinking (and smoking). 

I knew I had a self-inflicted fever. I felt a mixture of cold and hot, and when I put my hand on my forehead, I could tell that was not a healthy temperature. It wasn’t a new kind of sickness for me, and in fact, was the only kind of sick I got. I stared at the city, the lights branding my vision. It was dazzling.

“Dean?” Jess asked as she walked out of the apartment. “What are you doing out here?”

I looked up at her, giving her the best smile I could muster with how shitty I felt. I stood up very wobbly, grabbing onto the handrail so hard my fingers felt numb.

“Are you ok?” she questioned in reaction to me almost running into her.

“I’m ok,” I expressed in a soft voice. I walked towards the door while the world spun, where Sam and I almost collided also. Sam stared at me, completely surprised, before getting underneath my arm and helping me inside with a question. 

“Goodnight, Jess,” he called, looking back at his girlfriend before she was gone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” she waved as she sulked worriedly down the stairs.

Sam let me down on the couch. “You’re drunk? Again?”

I shook my head slowly, my head feeling too heavy to hold up. It began to weigh down more than I could handle. I fell on my side before Sam grabbed my head. He was able to pull me back up before my face could collide with the couch cushion.

“Holy shit, Dean!” Sam screamed too loudly. I felt my head pulse with pain almost like something was inside scratching at certain nerve endings. “You feel like you’ve been in an oven!”

He cupped his hand over my forehead, shaking his head as though this was the worst fever he’d ever felt in his life. It probably was. He’d never seen me get sick before and never had to deal with a sick person before. That was my job.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he whispered. He grabbed my underarm and pulled me up forcefully. My whole body began to ache and burn.

“I can walk by myself,” I muttered stupidly, trying to push him away. But as soon as I did, I started falling backward. Luckily, he caught me before my back slammed onto the hardwood floors. 

“I’m sure you can,” he obliged, guiding me slowly to my room. He dropped me, not so gracefully on the bed. I winced loudly, my entire body aching even worse than before. “Sorry,” he winced, running out of the room. He ran back in holding a damp rag, then situated me on my back and set the rag carefully on my head.

Delirious, I turned on my side, the rag falling off my forehead. I didn’t want something wet on my face. Sam laughed a little bit, before informing me in a whisper, “I’ve never seen you sick before.”

For some reason, that’s when all of the mistakes came out. I was so delirious, I just spewed all of my thoughts, all of my feelings, all of my mistakes, every single thing. All the stuff that happened with Castiel, all the depression, how I made myself sick thinking about all of it. And Sam listened to every damn word. My little brother, who I had protected from everything, who I wanted to hide all of the darkness in our lives from, was listening to me rant about every damn problem I had. 


End file.
